Tales From NightVale
by taciturn-parasol
Summary: These are the adventures of Lee Harper, current and, most likely, non-existent resident of the NightVale. The story of Lee Harper is not only what is heard from the NightVale community's daily radio updates, but what is seen as well - what should be forgotten. Lee isn't in any way comparatively normal in her hometown, but she is different and that could be dangerous...for her.
1. Chapter 1

**Beware of Dog Park** by Shaymaa Abusalih

In the friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while all pretend to sleep, there was a girl by the name of Lee. Lee Harper was a seventeen year old, five-foot-something with curly, cropped hair and a perpetual look of boredom stained on her face. Her eyes, though a beautiful shade of brown drooped with disinterest and very rarely were those little pink lips pinned up in a smile. She wasn't happy. She was a teenager and it was required by city law that no teenager should be in any way satisfied with their existence.

Today school got out early in honor of a town meeting that only a select few of the city's folk were allowed to attend. After dropping off her standard issue scholastic firearm, Lee walked down the street by herself, as always, and started to make her way home.

Her hands were tucked around the straps of her backpack and her pace, a steady bob. Around her neck, glossy and red as candied apples, was a pair of radio headphones. From a side view, her face was almost entirely concealed behind them. Her face was quite small, along with the rest of her, the headphones, quite opposite to this. They had belonged to the former lawn maintenance man for the high school's football field. Former, because there had been a nasty accident of some sort. A complete accident. One that could never involve any sort of tampering with lawn maintenance equipment that would eventually lead to a death so gruesome that nothing would be left of the maintenance man but a pair of bright red radio headphones that would later be auctioned off after the funeral in a citywide raffle. No, nothing like that.

Lee was fully aware of the fact that what she had around her neck was all that remained of a man who had more hair on his stomach than his head and didn't seem to mind one bit. She owed a lot to Mr. Weatherly and whoever it was that may or may not have replaced a few of the more vital parts of his lawn mower engine with rubber bands and saltwater taffy. Without these headphones she'd be without the one thing that actually managed to bring a bit of joy in her life. _The afternoon radio talk show. _She listened to it religiously, the voice on the other end drifting warm and low into her.

Lee checked her cell phone for the time and ducked into the headphones, turning the knob two twists forward. She waited for the static to clear and could just make out the slightest whisper of what she remembered to be Mr. Weatherly's usually working hum before the theme tune began to play and that sensuous voice began to weave a pattern of delicate wonder behind her eyes.

"Hello listeners. To start things off I've been asked to read this brief notice…"

Some people have religion, others funny, little, colored pills. Lee had the radio. While many kids her age spent their time plotting elaborate schemes or make their daily sacrifices to unknown forces that they would later forget about, Lee walked and walked and walked and did nothing else but listen to the radio. Well, she did do _other_ things.

For example, she stopped and stared.

Sitting in the middle of a grass lot was a towering wall of smooth, obsidian brick. Everything was still and dying around it, a strange sort of heat that wasn't quite pleasant emanating from it. Lee plucked one headphone from her ear and listened a moment to the whispers seeping out of the walls. She felt the slightest urge tugging her towards it when the voice on the radio pulled her back.

"…They would like to remind everyone that dogs are not allowed in the dog park. People are not allowed in the dog park…"

So, slowly, she stepped away from it and back onto the sidewalk, placing the headphone over her ear again.

She didn't know where she'd be without Cecil – the man on the radio. There was something in his voice that rang with honesty. Honesty could be dangerous in a town like this. She liked that about him.

When she got home she expected the house to be empty. Even if it wasn't, there still wouldn't be anyone there to greet her.

Lee had lived with her grandma Josie for most of her life. She was sure there was a time when she might have lived with someone else – a mother or a father or maybe even both – but as hard as she tried, she couldn't remember. She only knew that there was something in her mind she had forgotten. She wondered if people felt the same way about her. That they knew she was there but just couldn't remember.

Lee Harper with her cool haircut and decent tastes was never the center of attention. She never could be. No one ever remembered her. And every day when she came home from school grandma Josie would sit in her chair in front of the television never even knowing she was there.

It was a lonely life for Lee and she never really could understand why no one bothered to notice or even remember her. Maybe she had done something wrong. Maybe she was defective. Or maybe she simply. Just. Wasn't. There.

She went upstairs to have her homework over and done with. Her grandmother mentioned once or twice on the radio already but she could never really pay much attention to her show with unfinished homework nagging away in the back of her mind. So, she dropped her backpack on the floor of her room, reached into the top drawer of her dresser for her slingshot and leaned out of the window to shoot a vulture with a crooked neck out of the sky. She recorded the approximate angle of the shot, the distance from the window to the target and at what pitch the sound the vulture's body made when hitting the asphalt. It took a moment to collect itself, squawked at nothing and flew off, lopsidedly into the dessert sky.

Now, she could listen in peace.

To many people in the city of Nightvale, Lee would have been considered strange, that is, if anyone paid any mind to her. And it wasn't her tastes, her sense of style, her looks, at all. It was the thousands upon thousands of thoughts that churned constantly inside that small, auburn head. She thought constantly about the things that no one really seemed to notice or concern themselves about. And if there ever was the slightest bit of doubt, the tiniest spark of panic, there Cecil was, putting troubled, thoughtless minds to rest with the sound of his voice. This however, never worked on Lee. As hard as she tried to lose herself in that lovely voice, she always managed to find herself again. There were times when she truly believed that Cecil was secretly putting thoughts into her head while he made everyone else's melt away. It was another confusing thing for Lee. Another thing to think about. It was exhausting, thinking, but she found there was nothing else in the world that she could do any better.

In contrast to her cluttered mind, Lee's room was rather empty. A few pieces of clothing were lying about the wooden panel floors, an antique lamp slouched in the corner. Her closet was an open mouth with not much to say other than, "You probably shouldn't own so many winter clothes. You are in the desert after all". To which she would reply, "I like my sweaters just fine. Thank you very much."

That is, if she ever really cared to say anything. She was capable of speaking and spoke on occasion – usually to herself and when no one was around.

"Come to think of it," she muttered to herself. "I haven't made any sort of contact with anyone before."

If she had, she probably wouldn't have remembered. It was the same as all those other things – it was there, but what was it?

Just as the exclusive town meeting was being announced, the front door opened downstairs. Crouching low, Lee crept into the hallway, peeking down at her grandmother through the banisters as she bustled in.

Grandma Josie must have been beautiful at some point. That is, until time slammed its palm down on top of her head, squatting her like a child would with a block of clay. She was layered and lumpy like a poorly baked round cake. Her hair was a collection of silver springs and, as always, she wore a beaded sweater that seemed a little too small. In one, veiny, wrinkled hand, she held what was left of her salt-free corn muffins and in the other, fanned out for counting, was a good bit of money. There was an immense look of pleasure on her worn old face as she stowed the cash away inside her dress. She then waited a moment by the door, adjusting her pink, oval glasses before looking out into the street and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well, are you coming in or not?" she asked the space in front of her. "Am I going to have to wait all day?"

For a moment, Lee didn't understand but then, the most remarkable thing happened. The angels that had no business being there or even existing, stepped into the house. One after the other, glowing with the soft, lazy glow of a child's nightlight. Each of them, tall, thin and round-headed, silently collected in the foyer. With arched backs, they loomed over her grandmother with what Lee guessed to be patient stares, considering that there was no telling what their faces looked like past the bluish-gray beams emanating from every inch of them.

Lee had never been so absorbed in anything so terrifying. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the figures until they drifted after her grandmother, who seemed extremely comfortable in their presence, and into the next room. The light of the television flickered on the ground, shadows sliding to and fro. Lee retreated back into her room.

There she stayed for the rest of the day, spread across her bed and staring up at the ceiling as she listened on.

Yes, it was a lonely life. But Lee had Cecil. She had the humming of his good voice. She had the stories he told of the people who did not see her. She had his warnings and though she never had much use for them, she figured it was the thought that counted. And above all, she had his goodnights and goodbyes. They were the last thing she heard before going to bed. The last thing she'd want to hear if she were never to wake.

It was a plain life. Empty. Without meaning. For Lee, at least. To be honest, what kind of story would this be if it was _only_ about a girl in a place like this? Some stories need their slow beginnings, their droning introductions and meaningless passages. Real stories don't truly begin without these useless things. Beginnings are what tomorrows are for. And tomorrows are never too far away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Glow Hanging Clouds** by Shaymaa Abusalih

Carlos rubbed his aching eyes for the third time in the past five minutes. His eyelids had grown a shade darker than the rest of his lovely face. His thick eyebrows crushed together as he tried to focus on his work and his slightly chapped lips were twisted in a grimace as he took another sip of poorly-made coffee.

A headache was beginning to pang inside his head like a gong the more he worked. Nothing made sense in this place. He had never been so curios, so clueless, so captivated by anything before and it was beginning to wear him down. None of it was possible.

"Hey, Carlos?" Just then, a fellow scientist poked his head around the door. There was a smile on his face, though not a genuine smile. It was the kind of crooked, uncomfortable smile a child makes when they know they've just done something wrong, like throwing their father's wallet into a wishing well rather than "just a few coins". A pit was already forming in Carlos's stomach.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked in his silky, sultry voice.

"You might want to come see this."

With that, his colleague pulled his head back behind the office door.

Carlos sighed, taking a moment to run his hands through the luscious cascade of midnight that was his hair – the streaks of silver around his ears like the stream of light that chases falling stars. Smooth and wavy and absolutely, clearly and certainly the most perfect hair this town had ever laid eyes on. Every lock fell into its final resting spot – flawless. He thought he was about due for a haircut by now. It was becoming such a hassle.

He pushed away from his desk and rode his wheely chair to the door. His lab coat whipped around him as he went to go see what all the hubbub was about.

Every scientist on his research team was standing outside under the protection of an awning. They all stared up at the sky, baffled, horrified. Carlos looked up too and then all around.

From one end of the street to the other, every inch was covered in snow. Snow in the dessert? Impossible. But it was. There it was, gleaming softly in the light of the sun.

"Are you getting any readings on this?" Carlos asked the nearest team member. But it seemed he was the only one with a voice in the entire troop. They were speechless, shocked into complete stillness. They didn't even blink.

Carlos sighed again, wishing he had formed a team with a little more backbone than this. He checked the readings himself to find that the temperature still read above a hundred degrees. The snow wasn't melting.

Hesitantly, one foot and then the other, Carlos stepped out from under the awning, wrapping his lab coat tightly around himself. The fresh fallen snow crunched beneath his sneakers and began to seep into the fabric, making his socks unbearably soggy. He lifted his enchantingly brown eyes to take a better look at the sky.

A massive cloud was tumbling overhead. It churned the sky with flashes of various colors. Orange, violet, indigo, green, yellow and then back again. Lighting tangled itself around the cloud like fluorescent veins but there was no thunder. Only a low, solitary whistle. The kind your television might make from time to time, the kind that was suddenly there in your ear when things were just _too_ quiet.

Carlos stared at it for a very long time, waiting for it to pass. It didn't. It only stared back. Then, drifting softly down towards him was a single flake of snow. When it was just at eye level, he reached out to catch it. A pain shot through him just as soon as he did and with a gasp, he pulled back a pricked finger. A bead of delicious red was forming at the tip of it.

For a moment, he stood wordlessly, looking down at his finger until the bead dripped a little ways down and onto the snow at his feet.

Of course, there was no scientific explanation for this, no plausible hypothesis to be formed, but Carlos felt himself smile down at his bloodied finger and scoff.

"Frost bite."

Never had anything so ridiculous made so much sense. For once, something in this godforsaken town, made sense.

"What do you think it is?" the perky blonde that sat next to Lee asked.

Lee would have asked that very same question if she had wanted but what was the use? Sitting next to a perky blonde could make anyone invisible and unheard, even if it wasn't Lee. But the fact was that the perky blonde had finally asked the question that had been on everyone's minds when they rushed out of their classrooms and out to the front of the school to stare up at the sky.

Glowing, flashing, pulsing with shifting colors was a massive cloud. Its colors were cast on their curious faces, shining in their dead eyes. Except for Lee's.

While her classmates and her teachers stood still and blank-faced, turning from one color to the next with the cloud. Becoming the cloud. Lee stood at the front of the crowd as her usual pale, uninteresting self.

There were whispers all around her. The girls huddled closer to one another, concerned painted across their heavily caked faces. They batted their thick, sticky eyelashes at the sky, their ruby red lips puckered with fear.

Some of the boys started to snicker and nudge one another, daring friend and foe alike to be brave and make a fool of themselves.

Staring up at the cloud with a frown on her face, Lee could just make out a low whistle drifting down to them. And in that whistle, there was a voice.

All…hail…

Lee was just about to make out the rest when a boy from the junior class let out a screech of joy and thrust his hands into the air. He plowed through the crowd, laughing hysterically and headed straight towards the cloud. And flailing his arms, a big, goofy smile on his face, the boy uttered his last words, or rather, word.

"YOLO!"

As soon as the dreadfully overused acronym left his lips, the cloud spat out a bolt of lightning. It hit him at the very top of his had as though it were Thor's hammer itself. Then, he was quiet. Then, he was still. And then, he was very much dead.

The crowd scattered like a disrupted queue of ants. And though they pushed and shoved and knocked Lee right over, onto her knees, she could only stare at the boy lying in the street. She had never seen someone die before. She thought it was just some silly thing they said when people decided to move away or avoid picking up the phone whenever a telemarketer called. But this was real. This was death. Terrible in its realness. In its terrible quickness.

And it was there, on hands and knees that Lee realized her greatest fear. She didn't want to die. No one did. But what she feared was dying while everyone stood there and never watched, never noticed, never even cared.

Twelve men from council security stood at attention in front of the Post Office. Occasionally, one would turn to the other and say something and the other would reply with a bored voice. There were fidgets and yawns and the grooming of fingernails as they stood with their guns slung uselessly over their shoulders.

Just across the street, hiding in a bush was the Apache Tracker.

The men knew it was the Apache tracker because poking out of the top of the bush were a set of gleaming feathers, tangled and twisted in the branches. As well as the slow rumbled of some nonsense chant.

"Hey-ya-ho-ho. Hey-ya-ho-ho."

He had been squatting there for about a half hour now and they decided that if they just ignored him then maybe, he'd go away.

"Hey-ya-ho-ho."

There was a game onto tonight.

Yeah?

Did the other see last night's game?

There was a shake of the head.

That was a shame.

"Hey-ya-ho-ho."

There was thought of taking the wife and kids out camping this weekend.

Yeah?

Maybe the other would like to come with, it could be fun.

There was another shake of the head.

That was a real shame.

"Hey-ya-ho-ho. Ho-ho-hey!"

The Apache Tracker suddenly burst from his "hiding place", his feather headdress disheveled and his face scratched up slightly by the branches. His final exclamation had worked and the twelve men lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

"Victory." the Apache Tracker muttered triumphantly to himself.

He looked around before running across the street and slipping into the unlocked doors of the Post Office.

Once inside, he held an arm in front of his face to block the foul smell wafting in the air around him. It was the smell of bad meat not cooked fully on a barbeque. It was far from appetizing.

He scanned the Post Office, searching for clues. He stepped carefully through the thousands of envelopes and packages scattered about the floor, not wanting to damage any of the contents inside. The mail boxes were all open but not by key. It seemed they had been blown open by a thousand small charges or perhaps, one extremely powerful charge. Either one was plausible.

Still, none of the mail had burned. Only the mailboxes and whatever unfortunate flesh had been inside the Office when the charge went off.

The Apache tracker mumbled some nonsense to himself, scratching his poorly-shaven chin. Then, looking up at the far wall just behind the help desk, he saw it. The clue he had been looking for. Scrawled in sharp, bloody strokes were the words "More to come".

The Tracker mimed the shape of a camera and "took" a picture of the wall, then realizing that the model camera he imagined he had couldn't upload photos to the internet, he stowed it away, puffed up his chest and announced to the empty post office, "I must tell everyone!"

School had been cancelled for the rest of the week in memoriam of Everett Pool, the boy who sacrificed his life for the sake of discovery. And though he died without fully understanding the nature of the Glow Cloud, it was not in vain. Now the citizens of NightVale could sleep comfortably knowing that the cloud was most certainly dangerous and that approaching it meant immediate death.

With her bright, red headphones clamped over her ears, Lee paced quickly down the streets, never stopping, looking back or looking up until she got home. She stumbled in through the front door and shut it behind her, finally taking a moment to breathe properly. She closed her eyes and tried to listen to Cecil's voice – not what he was saying, just the sound of it.

Soon, she was calm enough to stand without having to lean on the door and went into the kitchen where her grandmother was baking as she always did.

The angels collected around Grandma Josie as she stirred a bowl of batter in the crook of her arm.

"You see, the secret is, you want to mix clockwise first _and then_ counterclockwise." she told them.

Lee slipped her backpack off of her shoulder and one headphone away from her ear. She watched her grandmother patiently, glancing a few times at the angels who paid no mind to her either. Lee was old enough to know that when one thought of things like death, one needed someone to talk to. Who better than her own grandmother?

This was Lee's chance to say something, anything at all, but she couldn't find her voice as she looked at her grandmother, knowing she was just a stranger to her. She just stood there, silent as an existentially challenged church mouse.

"Well, I'm just getting ready to take this to the questioning over at the elementary school." her grandmother said quite suddenly. It seemed to be aimed at one of the angels. "You know these people, they're always so eager to have one of my treats and I never disappoint."

Lee continued to watch and listen – her grandmother in one ear and Cecil in the other. They were all she had and even they wouldn't notice if she were gone.

Grandma Josie poured the mixed batter into a pan and turned to the nearest angel with an expectant smile. It stretched out a radiant limb and pointed at the raw paste. There was a fierce glow, so intense that Lee shielded her eyes and when it died down, there sat on the counter a fully baked pumpkin spice cake.

"Thank you, dear." Josie told the angel, giving it a gentle pat on the shoulder. "We best be off now. Punctuality, punctuality, punctuality."

Another angel had the honor of carrying the hot pan in its bare hands. It was unbothered by the heat.

They all filed out the door behind Josie, who marched with her chin up and an umbrella clenched in her hand.

Lee felt her voice rising in her throat. She had to tell her grandmother what she was feeling. She just had to. Right now, before it was too late.

She chased her out onto the walkway in front of the house and in a voice that was horse and quiet from little use, she spoke.

"I'm afraid of dying." she called to her grandmother. The troop came to a halt and Josie along with her angels all turned and looked at Lee, who stood quiet uncomfortably on her own. But she went on. "I saw a boy die today. I saw him die and now I'm afraid. What should I do?"

Grandma Josie said nothing for a long while. She was confused but then, amused. She opened up her umbrella and recited in a voice proud and practiced, "If you see something, say nothing. Drink to forget."

And with that, she turned on her heels and marched on, hunched over under her little, worn umbrella, her back glowing white from the angels and her face multicolored from the cloud. She hadn't really seen Lee. She only thought she had heard something. Lee was that thing that went away after a few shakes of the head.

With her heavy heart and a rock in her stomach Lee shuffled back toward the door and there she sat alone. She looked up at the sky and wondered why it was after all these years of not caring that people didn't care that she suddenly did. It was just the way things were, but now she felt as though it shouldn't be. She cared for herself because no one else would. Deep down, she cared enough to think that she deserved to be remembered, to be thought about and to be loved. Never before had she thought this way and she thought so often.

It could be said that witnessing the death of Everett Pool was necessary. For, it had sparked a realization in Lee of her importance and in turn proved his own. It was here that thoughts would turn to questions and eventually, a burning curiosity, a need for answers. This moment would be the beginning to Lee's journey of uncovering the truth. But for now, she would remain unsure and afraid as she sat on the front steps of her grandmother's house.

Some time had passed as she listened on. Then, a thought occurred to her. On impulse, she ran back inside, grabbed an umbrella and ran as fast as her thin legs could carry her toward downtown NightVale. She only wanted to someone to talk to and she could only think of the one person that talked to her the most.

The Glow Cloud was hanging above the city as she sprinted onwards toward the radio station.

"What's he saying?" Carlos asked, turning away from the window.

Edgar, an intern, was sitting attentively by the radio, his chin resting on crossed arms as he leaned on the tabletop.

"They know." Edgar mumbled. "He said 'grab an umbrella'."

"You've got to be kidding me." Carlos sighed, looking back outside. "It's too dangerous to be outside."

"Well, it's a good thing we're in here, isn't it?" the intern smiled, drunk with sleep deprivation.

With a limp-wristed hand, he aimed for the top of his head and scratched it. His eyes drooped as he massaged his aching head. He was far too tired to be concerned and each thud of some dead thing hitting the rooftop was strangely calming and slowly lulling him to sleep.

"Ed, we need to get these people off the streets. I mean, look at them, they're just wandering around out there."

The science monitoring station had been set up on a small plateau, overlooking the city. It was a short walk down from here to the radio station, but the distance seemed to stretch on forever in this weather. The air was thick and the ever-changing lights of the Glow Cloud stained everything below it. Soon, mingling with the passersby in the streets and the colors were the twisted, mangled and rotting corpses of dead animals of all sorts.

There was no telling what else the Glow Cloud had to offer, what they'd be up against and Carlos, his glistening brown eyes heavy with worry, could only think of how dreadfully stupid it was for the townspeople to go about their daily lives when there was such clear and present danger. How could Cecil do that? He didn't seem _that_ clueless. Carlos thought he would have at least _some_ regard for his fellow townsfolk.

He huffed and his rich lips pressed into a thin line, the slight fuzz on his upper lip was more noticeable. He scratched his scruffy chin in frustration before peeling off his lab coat and holding it over his head for cover – it wouldn't do much good if he were unlucky enough to have a carcass fall on him, but there was comfort in not being completely exposed.

"I'm going down to the radio station." Carlos announced the Edgar without noticing the intern had dozed off after not having slept for more than an hour last night.

Carlos, perfect Carlos, the scientist, rushed out into the psychedelic cascade, lab coat billowing over his head and glasses slipping down to the tip of his round nose. His strong, square jaw was clenched and his eyes determined. He looked absolutely ridiculous. But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was keeping the people of this insane, impossible town safe, no matter how bizarre or oblivious they seemed to be.

A thought occurred to Carlos as he ran down the steep incline leading toward the town. His legs flung out, one in front of the other in an effort to keep from falling.

Perhaps, taking an umbrella wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

Lee's lungs were starting to ache by the time she reached the radio station. The road leading from the trailer park into the city had been blocked by three of the council's slow plows – an investment that, in the end, paid off. Slowly but surely, the slow plows were pushing carcass after carcass down the road towards the Eternal Animal Pyre, just on the other side of town at Mission Grove Park. The smell and sound was terrible and Lee could just make out the dark billow of smoke rising and colliding with the Glow Cloud in the sky.

The lights seemed to pulse more quickly now, engulfing the whole city – stretching as far as the eye could see.

The eyes above could see everything.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Lee looked across the street to the radio station. A window nearly stretching from one end of the wall to the other gave her a full view of the broadcasting booth. And there he was, the man behind the radio speaker, the man with the lullabies in his voice, the man who she had always looked upon with such wonder, ever since she was a little girl.

She listened on to the reports, a smile coming to her face. The rise in her cheeks made the headphone scoot a fraction upwards on her ears.

She used to come here often, just to watch for a while before heading home. She'd stay and smile and then wait for the weather report. It was her favorite part. And then, her small smile would grow into a little giggle as Cecil spun and bounced and danced in his chair to the music. She would dance too. But not anymore.

The roads had mostly been cleaned with the exception of a flattened rat that had most likely been run over this morning rather than falling from the sky. Lee opened her umbrella and held it over her, wiggling her toes inside her sneakers as she watched Cecil go about his work.

The movement of his lips was slightly off sync with what she was hearing as though there were in two separate parts of time. His hair was blonde but a washed out sort of blond – sandy in color from all the sunlight and on most occasions was combed upward into a tiny spike that reflected an evenly formed widow's peak. He had a slim, smart jaw and high cheek bones that made dimples in two different places on each cheek when he smiled. She liked when he smiled. It was an honest smile and she always felt it was somehow aimed toward her. His long neck stretched out of a collared shirt the color of a plum skin and his slender arms, pale, stuck out of his rolled up sleeves. His fingers were weaved together as they always were and his thumb moved up and down with each word he spoke. From behind blocky glasses, two teal eyes stared at an imagined audience. His eyebrows, two shades darker than the hair on his head were lifted in surprise at the latest news he was announcing. As he spoke from pink lips, the rich hum of his voice floated into the microphone – Lee could almost see it. He too wore a pair of headphones, big and black, consuming nearly half of his face.

Lee could notice everything about him if she wanted and sometimes, she did, but decided against it. He had enough admirers as it was. The last thing he needed was another sixteen year old girl spending hours of her time looking at him.

She couldn't wait for the weather though and afterwards, get her chance to talk to him.

As surprising as it may seem, this wasn't the first time Lee came to talk to him about something. She had come to this very spot many times before, thinking of what she was going to say. In her head, she would say it all while watching Cecil in his booth. To her, it was the same as talking and the same as him listening. Then, when everything was figuratively said and done, she would wait for the show to end – sometimes past sunset, others an hour before, depending on the time of year – and for Cecil to start his walk home from the station.

Each and every time he noticed her was the first time for him. Cecil was the only person in this entire city that noticed Lee. She knew of no one else that could. And though it never lasted, it was enough.

She would watch as he'd either slip into his coat or drape it over his arm. He had a book bag that he carried with him at all times, slung over his shoulders but never once had she seen him open it. Then, closing the blinds to the booth window and locking up the place, he'd turn and see her waiting silently across the street.

"Hello there." he would say with a smile. And she'd give a slight wave. "Were you waiting for me?"

Lee would nod. This always brought a pleased look to his face. With that, he'd look both ways and cross the street to meet her on the other side.

He'd shake her hand and say, leaning downward a bit so they were somewhat at level with each other, "I'm Cecil, it's nice to meet you."

He'd expect for Lee to tell him her own name, but she never did. She couldn't. For a girl of little words she was at a loss for them in his presence. She was satisfied enough with being seen alone, to be heard would have been a little too overwhelming.

Cecil would then look down the road and then to her.

"Would it be too much to ask you to join me on my walk home?" he would say in a voice almost embarrassed, almost guilty. "It's a pretty far walk and it gets pretty lonely."

Lee would reply with a smile and they'd set off together.

He would talk about everything and anything that was on his mind and ask her questions that she could answer with a nod or a shake of the head. He never hesitated to give her a compliment – her headphones, shoes, hair or clothes, even her face that was "as pleasant as a fairy's". And she'd attempt to compliment him on many of the same things by pointing at them.

Those walks were the best moments of her life, but never of his. Cecil never remembered her, never remembered the walks and the talking that he did. But he would always ask for her company and she would always give it. Until, it began to wear on her. For, what good was being noticed if you were never remembered?

Today would be different because it didn't matter to Lee. She just wanted that brief moment of happiness and maybe then, this heaviness inside her would finally fall away.

But in the midst of all her thinking, Lee noticed that Cecil's eyebrows had furrowed, his eyes had narrowed and his hands curled into fists on either side of him. Then, creeping up from the collar of his plum shirt and twisting up to his jaw were what looked like tattoos of some sort. Tattoos of tentacles come to life on his skin, weaving in and out of sight, slithering down his arms and wrapping around each thumb. All the goodness, the warmth was gone from his voice. There was only an emptiness – a dark, endless tone that stung her ears.

_The Glow Cloud does not need to converse with us. It does not feel as we tiny humans feel. It has no need for thoughts or feelings of love. The Glow Cloud simply is. All hail the mighty Glow Cloud. All hail..._

Lee felt herself trembling where she stood and then being swept up into strong arms and carried away. Her umbrella clattered onto the sidewalk and as she bounced, curled up against some stranger's chest, she looked back to the station, terrified and sick with worry.

She had almost uttered Cecil's name when her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a lion – the very same lion reported to have been on the roof of the White Sand Ice Cream Shop. It was very much alive and its two golden eyes glowed with hunger as it stared straight into Lee's doe-eyed gaze. The fur on its mouth was stained brown with chocolate and red with…something else.

"It would've charged right at me." Lee thought to herself. "I would have been dead."

It was then that she looked up at the stranger who had snatched her up so smoothly and was now running at a steady pace, well ahead of the lion. She needn't look at his face to know exactly who this man was. For, on the top of his head was a headdress of feathers, bobbing up and down as he ran.

The Apache Tracker.

"Ish-kay-nay." he said.

Lee wouldn't know how to respond to that even if she wanted to.

His hard, dark eyes met hers. "Ish-kay-nay good, yes?"

So, she was Ish-kay-nay, that much she understood but what it meant, she had no clue. She didn't really like it. Lee had always been open to the idea of a nickname but she hoped it would be something she'd actually like to be called. And had he asked her if she was good? She had nearly died. That didn't seem good. And there was a lion chasing after them. That didn't seem anywhere close to good.

As thankful as she was, Lee couldn't help but frown up at the man who had just saved her life.

He strode onward, his legs pushing away the ground beneath him and with a smile, gave a reply to his own question. "Ish-kay-nay is good."

Cecil was right. This guy was an asshole.

Carlos had nearly made it to the radio station when it started raining cats and dogs. He had nearly been pummeled by a Dachshund, a Pit Bull and a Siamese cat before finally taking refuge under the awning of the bus stop. He sighed, squinted up at the sky as it pulsed more violently with color and vibrate with a foreign sort of tune. Most of the citizens had sense enough to start clearing out of the streets, but there was still a chance that many would try and simply ignore the whole disaster while they made a quick stop at the grocery store.

He'd never make it to the station on foot. Perhaps, the bus would be here soon.

And so there he waited. And waited. For the bus. In the rain.

With Lee in tow, the Apache Tracker ran on until they came to the Dog Park. Eerie and quiet, save the whispers that seeped from the obsidian walls is where the Tracker stopped in his tracks and turned to face the lion.

Lee tensed in his arm, clutching the front of his shirt, urging him with wide, terrified eyes to keep running, but he wouldn't. He stared straight ahead, looking imminent death in the face.

Lee tried to squirm out of his arms and keep running on her own, but his grip was tight and firm. She started to tremble so hard she felt spikes in her blood.

"Anat-zont-tee." the Apache Tracker hissed.

Again, Lee hadn't the slightest clue what he was saying or if it even meant anything at all. But whatever gibberish he was spewing was enough for the lion to understand.

It skidded to a halt. Its fierce, golden eyes went blank and quite mechanically, the lion turned toward the towering, black walls of the Dog Park and slowly strode toward it. It coiled up before making an impressive leap upwards and over the wall in one smooth arc. There weren't even whispers. There wasn't even a hum in the sky above. Everything was quiet. Everything was alright.

With a proud nod, the Apache Tracker started walking back towards the city, showing no sign of letting Lee walk herself. And while she sat there, awkwardly curled up in his arms, she noticed the sky had cleared and was no longer flashing or humming or tossing carcasses down at the city. Instead, the Glow Cloud floated onwards into the distance, over the endless stretch of dessert that surrounded them. The stars were peeking out from under their endless void of sheets.

Looking straight ahead, the Tracker started to explain to Lee how he had shown up so conveniently when she had been in danger without knowing at the time. He had been tracking down a dragon by the name of Hiram McDaniels who had come from another world. Apparently, a door to this world had been opened in the Post Office – the one he had broken into with Indian magics – and McDaniels went on a rampage, killing and eating every worker that had clocked in that morning. The mass homicide was apparently being covered up by the council, who claimed it was nothing more than a case of speeding and identity fraud. The Tracker had set out to find him and whoever gave him entrance to this world in order to find answers. He mentioned something about evil deities and being cursed with the skin of the white man, that the dragon was the key to many answers and that he felt the magics were strong in him again now that he had started his quest.

And the more he rambled on, the more comfortable Lee began to feel in his arms. It was familiar, this feeling. Not just of being noticed and talked to but held tight in someone's arms, feeling small in them.

Looking up at the Apache Tracker, Lee saw a man who had faced what would have surely been death and simply told it to go away. There was a budding sense of admiration toward this man, this strange and slightly crazed man. And Lee wanted him to listen because she finally had someone who could.

"I'm afraid of dying." she told him, her voice so weak and small. "I'm afraid of dying without anyone knowing I'm dead."

The Tracker was no longer staring at the road ahead but down at Lee Harper. Small, silent, brave, Lee Harper. Ish-kay-nay. She would have looked like her father, if he knew her father. And had her mother's eyes, if she had ever existed.

He stared a long while, his face barely seen and took a deep breath in the cool darkness.

"Ish-kay-nay will become a part of the earth. And the earth will know. And Ish-kay-nay will never die. Good?"

Lee took a moment to think about this and the weight was gone from her chest and Cecil's voice was in her ears, gentle and true again, saying goodnight. Her eyes began to close against the night and just before she drifted into a thoughtless sleep, she pressed her face against the Tracker's hard, warm chest and whispered, "Good."


	3. Chapter 3

**Station Anger Management** by Shaymaa Abusalih

Coming to you live. On the scene and on your screen, it's – No. That was no good. From the sands to the stands, Lee Harper here with – Now that's just silly.

Lee turned around and faced her back to the mirror, a hairbrush clutched in both hands. She wore an old blue blazer and wasn't so sure who it belonged to – it was much too big to belong to Grandma Josie and Grandpa had only been known to wear the sweater vests Grandma knitted for him. Lee liked it enough to slip into it though. There was still the faintest scent of cologne on it, one she couldn't quite place. And after a minute or so of turning around to look at herself in the mirror, her imagination began to prance around in her brain and now she was NightVale's one and only female news reporter with the scoop! No, still no good, but she'd keep working on it.

She continued to turn around dramatically in the mirror until she decided it was about time she turned on the radio. Cecil was naming off this week's shades. Lee stuck her head out of the window and looked up at the sky, nodding in approval. Robin's egg it was. Once again, Cecil delivered.

School was out today for reasons quite obvious. The books stopped working, which Lee didn't see as much of an inconvenience, considering they only repeated the word "SUBMIT" over and over and over and over. Still, the school had its standards and the teachers, strict lesson plans to follow. Lee wasn't against it in the slightest. She had a mind's worth of witty one-liners, a mirror and an entire afternoon to herself.

Since the Glow Cloud's passing, Lee felt a sort of exuberance in her. Perhaps, it was the rush of having almost died that struck a new bolt of energy in her or maybe it was the simple fact that for the first time ever she was noticed _and remembered_ by someone.

Every day on her walks to school and back, the Apache Tracker was there, standing on the other side of the road, stiff as a statue until Lee came passing by.

"Ish-kay-nay!" he'd call to her with a strong arm raised over his head. "Good today, Ish-kay-nay?"

And Lee, flustered each and every time into a shy blush would wave to him with a tiny smile and go on her way. With a nod, he would turn on his heels and stride, with feathers bobbing up and down, in the opposite direction towards town, only to return the next morning and do it again.

It made Lee feel special, important, like something. She wasn't so neutral any more, but in fact, happy – this was dangerous – and even a little bit more curious – which is exactly why the Tracker checked up on her every day to make sure she was "good". Lee, of course, did not know that – not that or the reason why. But she was blissful in her ignorance and went about her day pretending she were brave enough to be different, pretending to be brave enough to want to find answers.

"What do you think, Carlos?"

Carlos sighed, having been asked that question much too often. He saw no point in bringing a team along with him if they were just going to ask questions even he couldn't answer. Most of the time he didn't reply and some of the time he would only answer with some nonsense that would somehow become the basis for all the research done on the subject at hand.

"It might have to do something with the decline in the literate population Cecil mentioned this morning." Carlos said on an exhale, deliberately keeping his back turned to Edgar as he scanned the nearest bookshelf. "Maybe the books are upset that there aren't as many people around who can read them."

The library seemed the most reasonable place to investigate. The books that sparked could be found in Teen Fiction. The meat-smelling ones in Cooking and Culinary – naturally. Biting books were mainly Zoobooks and other prints concerning the animal kingdom. And the books that spouted puffs of lethal gas were the ones clustered in the back shelves marked, "Politics. Such evil, evil, politics".

Edgar stopped scanning the shelves on his side of the aisle and began to ponder on what Carlos had said.

"Hmmm." he hummed. "I think you might have something there. It would definitely be worth looking into."

There was the loudest thwack as the palm of Carlos's hand connected with his crinkled brow. He pushed thick, ebony locks from his face in an effort to contain his annoyance.

The hair tie alone was not enough to contain the thick cascades, leaving a few renegade locks falling repeatedly into his line of vision, while the rest flowed a little ways past his shoulders.

"Plan on getting a haircut soon?" Edgar smirked, noticing how often he repeated this motion.

Carlos looked at him but then turned away to hide the look of disappointment he was sure would begin to swim in his eyes.

He remembered fondly of drives he'd make out to his mother's house. The hours spent in the car, drumming on the steering wheel to his favorite songs. He'd pull up to the small, ageing house and there she would be – standing, readily at the door to plant warm kisses on each cheek and at the top of his head. She'd take him by the hand and have him sit and tell her of all his studies and work – even though she didn't quite understand any of it – while she fed him all those good things he loved to eat. Then, he'd take his chair and place it at the center of the kitchen and sit quietly as her small hands combed through his hair and the snips of the scissors lulled him into an almost sleep.

It had been a long while since he had been over for a haircut. And that old, ramshackle house lay empty. His mother had been resting for a little over a year now. He couldn't imagine a haircut without feeling her smallness behind him and hearing her hum something not heard anywhere else.

"There's a barber shop in town. Not half bad. Got my hair cut there last week." Edgar told him, adjusting a few knobs on his scanner.

Carlos snuck a glance in his direction. It was the first time he noticed Edgar's haircut. Bringing it up was probably some subtle way of making it known to him. But once the first day passes, complimenting on someone's haircut seems useless and shameful.

"It looks good." Carlos managed to say with guilt eating away at his voice.

Edgar made sure to look surprised and flattered and smiled, though sadness lingered in his eyes. "Thanks, man."

After careful consideration, Lee finally decided on an outfit to wear. She could admit that this reporting fantasy was getting a bit out of hand, but when living in a world where no one could see you, what's the harm in enjoying it sometimes?

She stomped around the backyard in her combat boots and blazer. And though she said nothing into the hairbrush-microphone, she made serious faces because the news was serious and should be taken very seriously.

After her backyard news coverage was covered, she was on the streets, looking for something interesting to report to an audience that was more real to her than she was to other people.

It was trash pick-up today and the streets were lined with trash cans and bags. Lee carefully stepped around those marked with red flags, just making out the slight indents of claws pressed into the black plastic of one bag. There was also a hiss, like a cat but not quite, coming out of it. She wasn't sure what to make of it and therefore could not report on it. She had to be a reliable resource after all.

"You should be hiding." a voice whispered in her ear. Lee stopped dead in her tracks. It came again. Through her headphones she could feel its heat, the dew that formed from that hot breath and the lips so rough and parched. "We told him we'd find you. He said you would hide. You should be hiding."

Fear weighed heavily on her, gripped her and pressed her into insignificance. She felt her heart beat rapidly in her chest and her throat clench. She was unable to breathe, unable to pull herself out from under this crushing fear. The whispers went on. Hands began to creep along her arms. No, not hands, but something else. Thick and curled. There were no fingers…

And then, there were. Strong fingers that gripped her shoulders and shook the terrible fear away just as they had on the day of the Glow Cloud. And like that day, suddenly there.

"Ish-kay-nay." the Apache Tracker barked at her. "You should be inside."

Lee had almost cried out and struggled a moment in his grip, but when she looked up into his hard eyes she was no longer afraid and had no knowledge of words other than, "I…"

"Home, Ish-kay-nay." he told her.

He spun her around and pushed her in the right direction, but she stumbled and fell to her knees. Her arms were held out in front of her as she stared down at the ink beginning to seep into her skin and stain it with the wild intertwinings of what looked like the very tentacles that tried to take hold of her just a few moments ago.

The Tracker stood over her, watching the tentacles dance, horrified, but knowing full well what they were. Today was the Day of Choosing. Evil somethings stretched out as far as Their eyes could reach, searching hungrily for precious flesh. These eyes cast with such intensity made the heart race and fear tear away at the mind. It had happened to everyone. For a short moment, everyone had eyes watching them. But they were not chosen. It was only a glance. Now, They had quickly found Their meal. And They had chosen Lee.

She frowned down at her arms and could only do that before she became lightheaded and fell into the Tracker's arms once again before hitting the pavement. Her eyes remained open and she saw nothing when he turned her over.

He shook her several times, trying to wake her but she did not. He heard laughter.

"You made such promises, such promises." They chanted. "To him, you made such promises. You failed. She is so ripe. So ripe. She is so ripe…She is _ours_."

As he clutched The Chosen, The Apache Tracker began to shake with fury. He had a chant of his own to sing, to whisper into the empty air around him. His eyes glowed like the fierce sun above them and the whispers were silenced.

"Never." he hissed at Them.

He rocked Lee in his arms, unable to wake her. He could only comfort her as her mind became a prison. Her body was still and cold as the markings continued to writhe across her skin.

They were right. He had failed. He meant to keep her safe. He meant to keep her away from such dangers, such thieves, such terrible fates.

There was so little time and he had yet to think of a plan.

The crippling sense of fear had passed and Telly stood, still shaking with a pair of rusty scissors in hand. He looked down in horror at the dark tuffs of hair at his feet, then into the eyes of his valued customer in the mirror.

The hair. The perfect, beautiful, luscious hair. The hair the shade of a romantic void. The hair that fell in cascades, swept into existence by a Muse's paintbrush. The hair that mingled with the starlight that streamed over his ears. The hair that had fell against his perfect face so many times a day. The hair that he would run his equally perfect hands through. Never to be touched by another. Never to be shorn. And yet, here Telly was, panicked and awestruck as though he had defaced the work of a god.

Carlos stared back, confused because it seemed that whatever horror had struck him a few moments ago had done the same to Telly. Although, it didn't seem to linger on as long as it did for him. And also, his head felt considerably lighter.

He carefully lifted a hand to the back of his head and felt the rough spot where the scissors had come too close. It was as though the sadness he felt in his heart had been cut away too. And though he could still feel where it had been, not much of it was there anymore.

Carlos loved his mother very much. It is often the case with men of his kind. He never had much to offer in friendships, he was never the type to actually catch a ball when it was thrown at him or even form a decent word when he came in contact with a special someone who made his heart flutter. But always, his mother thought him perfect, brilliant and dear. And for all that he knew, for all that he learned and studied, he never quite understood why. But as he sat there, rubbing the spot, he finally came to the conclusion that the reason was, she loved him too.

Those first precious locks were on the floor now. There was no turning back. It was time to move on.

"Well, Telly. I guess you might as well even it out."

The thing about a busy mind in a dark place is that everything becomes unnecessarily terrifying unfathomably quick.

Lee's mind was reeling and as she stood in the darkness that stretched on into eternity. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her warm breath turn to mist.

"She is so ripe." the whispers sang. "She is ours."

Lee whirled around to face the darkness behind her and then again, trying to follow the voices, but they came from nowhere. And yet, they were everywhere. So close, too close, too far away to see or touch.

"We will have her all to ourselves." They chanted. "Such plans for you, Chosen. Such plans."

Lee focused on her breathing and buttoned up the blazer to feel less exposed to the whispers in the dark and whatever belonged to those whispers.

Her courage was slowly bubbling to her slightly trembling lips. She didn't know where she was, why she was here, who had brought her to this place and how they had done it. And what plans? For once, she wouldn't just accept that things happened. She wasn't just going to sit in the dark and wonder. She wanted answers.

"Who are you?" Lee called into the void, her voice strong and direct.

"Who are you?" the whispers sang back to her.

Lee moistened her lips, squared her shoulders and tried again. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" They echoed again with laughter.

So, Lee asked again and again, remaining strong until the laughter began to grow and the question was still not answered. She slowly began to drown in the echoes, clutching her arms as she shook and shivered. Then, whispered, "Who are you?"

And again, a final time. Loud and yet so soft, so very soft, like a hiss from some fiery thing with red eyes, They asked. "Who are _you_?"

"Who am I?" Lee whispered to no one. "Who am I?"

And she sank to knees that were too weak to keep her standing. The whispers were silent as she asked a different question. But They were laughing in that silence at the silly, little girl, the speck of a girl, the bit of nothing in the darkness.

"Who am I?" Lee sobbed, holding fast to the body that might not have been hers or even there at all. "Who am I?"

She cried in the darkness, lonely but not alone. The question was never answered.

The day's end was drawing near. The Tracker stood over Lee as she lay on his cot, but the chants did nothing, his magic was no good. The markings would not recede and he felt Lee was fading away.

Lee twitched and sweat as she slept on, fighting against it as hard as she could. She was not strong enough. There was laughter in the air.

"Ish-kay-nay." he sighed after making his final attempt.

His shoulders slouched and his eyebrows were drawn together. After adjusting the lapels on her blazer, brushing the hair from her damp forehead and draping another blanket over her trembling body, he stood.

There was only one thing to do.

The last notes of today's weather faded into the silence. Cecil, with limbs pretzeled quite uncomfortably, was taking refuge beneath his desk. The show was nearly over, he only had to bear these terrors a moment more.

He signed off in a flurry of gasps and sobs, then, finally, he made a break for the door.

Everything rushed past him in a blur. The darkness swarming around the booth, the desk, the speakers. And when he was finally within reach of the door, a great big something was blocking his way.

The Apache Tracker.

"Oh, um – excuse me, do you mind moving away from the door?" he squeaked. "It's kind of urgent."

"Go with Them." said the Tracker.

Cecil felt his stomach churn, but he straightened his back and said shakingly, sternly, "If you don't mind, I've had a very long day and I'd like to go home now."

"They have her." the Tracker told him, his eyes heavy with worry.

"Who?"

"Them."

The Tracker then lifted a calloused finger toward the shadows tangled against the back wall of the booth. Their pursuit of Cecil had come to a halt when the Tracker arrived and now tentacles whipped in and out of sight, curling inwards as they shrank away from the Man. The Great Big Man.

Cecil felt he had no time to question this. Not when he hadn't yet gotten his answer.

"No, I mean, who do _They _have?"

"Ish-kay-nay."

"Um…_okay_. Well, I don't know what that means, so –"

"You will give yourself to Them. You always have. It is the way it has always been. Go with Them. Save Ish-kay-nay."

Cecil looked backed to his ominous superiors and then to the Tracker again. "Why me? Why not you?"

"They always take you. They take more and more and you forget." he said. "They fear me. I know who I am."

"What do They take?" Cecil breathed.

The Tracker said nothing for a long time. The booth would have been filled with silence had there not been the unbearable hissing and screeching of Station Management.

"You must go with Them."

"Please." Cecil begged. "I just want to go home."

And in that moment, Cecil and the Tracker met eyes with understanding, despite Cecil not being able to understand a bit of what was going on. They understood each other because in their eyes they saw the fear of life lost – that delicate weight in one's gaze that flowed in that space between hopelessness and pain.

Cecil only wanted to live another day. To come back to this booth with a smile on his face and do what he loved. The Tracker only wanted to fulfill a promise made so long ago. To stand across the street and watch the girl, Ish-kay-nay. Watch her grow and smirk and walk as she always did, because he was the only one to do that for her now.

The strength in his stance had melted. He stepped forward and looked down at the man who he had placed all his hope upon. The man who had known him and forgotten, just as Lee had. Without him, Ish-kay-nay would be lost and he would be without his purpose. His dark, endless eyes brimmed with tears.

"Save her." he demanded in a failing voice. "She is my Ish-kay-nay."

Cecil felt he was beginning to understand now, but there was no more the Tracker could say and no more that needed saying.

Cecil cast his eyes downward then, closed them as he stepped backward into the writhing darkness.

The Tracker stood there a long time, watching as the shadows twisted and curled around Cecil's body, caressing him with such delight, consuming him bit by bit and finally, swallowing him whole. He made not a sound and the hissing turned to whispers that began to laugh.

"He is so ripe." They sang.

And the Tracker chanted a blessing of thanks until the whispers stopped.

Lee was walking home from school the very next day. All was as it should have been. The sky was clear and a turquoise-taupe, the air was silent once again.

She came around the corner, her red headphones glinting in the sunlight. She was wearing the blue blazer she had found yesterday. It suited her well.

When he could no longer wait patiently for her to notice him, the Tracker raised an arm over his head.

"Good today, Ish-kay-nay?" he called to her.

"Good." she replied as she smiled and waved back, her arm pale and clear of markings. "But you can call me Lee, you know."

He gave his nod and turned on his heels, heading back toward home. He could not deny himself a smile as he walked.

Indeed, she was Lee, but she would always be his Ish-kay-nay.


End file.
